


When My Sun Rises

by naeuioneonenine



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, M/M, Magic, Mark Lee Is Tired, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Character Death, Quests, Swords, THATS A VERY IMPORTANT TAG, and also a healthy dose of angst probably, magic? jaemin, some comedy i suppose, witches renjun and chenle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 04:48:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21790300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naeuioneonenine/pseuds/naeuioneonenine
Summary: “Please, Hyuck, tell me you stole that sword from the weird magic store down the street and that you didn’t wander into a forest, follow a shitty map traced on the back of a Starbucks napkin, pull a sword out of a pond and have a disembodied voice tell you that you are the only one who is able to wield said sword.”“So,” Donghyuck says, lacking the correct amount of sheepishness, “you’d rather I steal a sword from  Chenle and then lie to you about it than just happening upon a boy sitting next to the road who told me to go find a sword, finding the sword, and then bringing it with me because it could be a public safety hazard. Did you think of the public, Mark? Plus, the voice says it’s mine.”
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee, Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin
Comments: 18
Kudos: 59





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first nct fic! wahoo  
> born from seeing a prompt on tumblr i lost a long time ago  
> there's not too much to introduce, i guess, uh. this might be kind of long, and i'm not sure how often i will get a chance to update it! but i'll try my best to keep it pretty regular.
> 
> markhyuck nation rise!!!

Mark rubs his fingers into his temples harshly. Maybe if he presses hard enough the headache will no longer be from Donghyuck standing in front of him, holding an ancient-looking sword, looking inappropriately excited. He sighs.

“Please, Hyuck, tell me you stole that sword from the weird magic store down the street and that you didn’t wander into a forest because the, quote, ‘cute boy on the side of the road’ told you it was your destiny, follow a shitty map traced on the back of a Starbucks napkin, pull a mysteriously glowing sword out of a pond and have a disembodied voice tell you that you are the only one who is able to wield said glowing sword.”

“So,” Donghyuck says, lacking the correct amount of sheepishness, “you’d rather I steal a sword from a very innocent Chenle and then lie to you about it than— ” he waves his hand and Mark ducked the swinging sword that Donghyuck may have forgotten he was holding. “--just _happening_ upon a cute boy— don’t worry, not as cute as you — sitting next to the road who told me to go find a sword, finding the sword, and then bringing it with me because it could be a public safety hazard. Did you think of the public, Mark? Plus, the voice says it’s mine.”

“Chenle is not innocent,” Mark says, mind stuck on the cute part. He curses the butterflies in his stomach and attributes them to worry about Donghyuck smashing one of his picture frames. “He probably does dark magic.”

“And that’s his business and I’m very happy for him.”

The headache builds behind Mark’s eyes. “Please go put the sword back.”

“Can’t!” Donghyuck says gleefully. “I lost the map-”

“Napkin-”

“And can’t remember where it was! Plus, the pond vanished.”

Mark sits down. “The pond what.”

“Vanished! As soon as I pulled the sword out, poof. No more pond.”

As far as adventures go, Donghyuck, and Mark by proxy, have been in many. From that time they (Donghyuck) got caught stealing pastries from Doyoung the one and only time he’s been able to master a perfect eclair to when they (Donghyuck) had the idea to sneak onto Taeyong’s aunt’s roof because she has “the best roof for stargazing,” to when they (both of them) got into an argument while walking home from school and ended up pushing each other off different sides of the same bridge (on accident!), Mark is used to not being able to expect whatever new idea Donghyuck is going to have. 

However.

Old swords, mysterious boys handing out prophecies, and disappearing ponds is a new level of crazy. 

“Donghyuck,” Mark says, watching Donghyuck switch the sword from hand to hand. “At least put the sword down. Please.”

“It doesn’t like it when I’m not touching it.”

“Sorry, what?”

“It doesn’t-”

Mark stands up and leaves the living room, brain functioning on autopilot. He makes it halfway up the stairs before Donghyuck is following him.

“Mark! Hey! Hold on, Mark, careful-”

Unfortunately, Mark’s autopilot is set to “Donghyuck” and he stops mid-step, immediately realizing his mistake when he feels his balance shift. He hears the clatter of metal on wood, Donghyuck’s cut off exclamation, and then watches the floor get further away. He thinks briefly, in the second of falling, that if there was anyone behind him that was not his best friend for going on fifteen years, he’d definitely probably be dead. As it is, Donghyuck has a “Mark” setting and catches him before he actually tumbles down the stairs. 

“Damn,” Donghyuck says, laughing. “This sword thing really has you freaked out.”

Mark stares up at him upside-down. Donghyuck’s nose is just as pretty from this angle as it is from right side up, and Mark files that thought away in the “2 A.M. crisis” category. “Um. Yes.”

“Why?” Donghyuck helps him stand back up and keeps his hand on the small of Mark’s back. 

Mark sighs. “I dunno, Hyuck. We’ve done and seen a lot of weird stuff but magic… magic is something else. Feels like something we shouldn’t mess with.”

Donghyuck takes a moment to respond. “Well,” he says slowly, and Mark notices the distinct lack of sword in his hands. “Let’s get you upstairs and sitting down surrounded by all your nerdy posters before we keep talking about this. Because I don’t want you to fall down the stairs but I also have to go get the sword. When it’s not next to me my hand itches. But,” he says hurriedly, watching Mark’s expression change, “we can, uh, discuss that later.”

“Right.” Mark makes his brain talk to his legs again and successfully gets up the rest of the stairs. He turns to watch Donghyuck scoop the sword off of the floor and Mark hopes it didn’t leave any dents in the hardwood. Donghyuck smiles up at him. There are things in this world more important than hardwood, Mark decides, and heads to his bedroom. 

❂

“I sense a disturbance in the force,” Jaemin says, staring at the ceiling of his bathroom. Jeno hums, working more pink dye into Jaemin’s freshly bleached hair. 

“Oh?” His hands are purposeful and steady, and Jaemin nods, ignoring the tingling of his scalp.  
“Yes.”

“What kind of disturbance?”

“A Donghyuck-shaped disturbance.”

“Ah,” Jeno says, carefully rubbing dye along the baby hairs lining Jaemin’s forehead. Jaemin tips his head back and blinks up at him. “That’s not much of a surprise.”

“This is a… suspiciously large disturbance. Feels different than other times.” This makes Jeno pause.

“Different than the time he snuck past Johnny into that bar when he was 14?”

Jaemin nods. “Yeah.”

He’s not entirely sure when he acquired a sort of sixth sense for the general state of the universe when it comes to his friends, but one day Jaemin woke up and had a very strong feeling that Jisung was going to be sick. 

He immediately told Jeno, because Jeno wouldn’t laugh at him, and the next day Jisung texted the group chat that he couldn’t make it to their monthly Sushi Sunday because he had stomach poisoning. 

Since then, Jaemin occasionally gets these odd feelings that clue him in to something happening with someone he’s close to. Sometimes he wishes he had a better way to explain it because sometimes even Jeno looks at him like he’s crazy. 

Right now, the tips of his fingers on his right hand feel like he stuck it in a bush of stinging nettles. He tells as much to Jeno, who nods his head and continues to make sure all of Jaemin’s hair is covered. 

“And how do you know it’s Donghyuck?”

“Uhh,” Jaemin says, furrowing his brows and closing his eyes against the harsh fluorescent lights. “It feels like, um, I stuck my toes in honey.”

Jeno pauses, and Jaemin opens his eyes to catch him wide-eyed and staring at him incredulously in the mirror. 

“What?”

Jaemin waves his hands, laughing awkwardly and louder than necessary, and Jeno barely avoids smearing dye over his forehead. “I don’t know how to explain! I just know that it means Donghyuck is up to something.”

“You sound like you’re going insane,” Jeno says without bite. “If I didn’t know any better I might call a priest and get you exorcised.” 

Jaemin ignores the twisting in his chest because he knows Jeno doesn’t actually think he’s crazy. He hasn’t told anyone else; he’s sure no one will actually call the Church on him or whatever but he’s not interested in his friends starting to doubt him. It’s a slippery slope, he knows, because once they think something is off everything is fair game. He sighs and focuses on how Jeno is lightly scratching his scalp and, while it definitely is weird that he’s petting Jaemin like a dog, it feels very nice.

“So all you know so far is that something happened to Donghyuck and his right hand?” Jeno pauses, and then the corners of his lips curl up. “Are you sure he’s not just lonely?”

The words take a second to sink in and then Jaemin shrieks, “No! God, no, if I start getting honey toes every time Donghyuck gets off I’m going to kill him and then myself. I’d rather never think about that ever again, thank you, and I don’t know if I should be impressed or ashamed of you for thinking it first.”

Jeno laughs, loud and clear, and scoops more dye onto his glove covered fingers. “I’m just saying. The details line up. He doesn’t have work today-”

“Stop,” Jaemin begs, almost ready to sacrifice his clear skin for getting out of the bathroom. “Please stop talking about Donghyuck’s-”

“Although it seems unlikely you’d just be feeling it for the first time today,” Jeno powers over him, grin splitting his face because he _knows_ Jaemin can’t leave. “I swear the other day I heard-”

“Jeno!!! Fuc-”

“-that Mark saw-”

“Jeno!”

“-him doing laundry on Tuesday, you know he only does laundry on Sundays-”

“Stop! Stop it!” Jaemin shouts, slamming his hands over his ears, ignoring the squish of hot pink dye under his fingers and the inevitable staining. He can hear Jeno’s laughter echoing off the bathroom walls. “Please, you’re supposed to be the voice of reason,” he whines.

Jeno doesn’t stop laughing until long after Jaemin’s freshly pink hair is washed and dried. Jaemin wants to curl up in his bed and not think about Donghyuck’s habits ever again but he’d also like to continue sitting next to Jeno in front of his TV, playing a TV show that he can’t remember. His fingers are still tingling.

Jeno pokes his foot, and Jaemin twitches. “Do you still have honey toes?” Jeno asks, and Jaemin regrets telling him at all. He should have said something vague like, _I just know_ , or anything that doesn’t acknowledge the weird sensations he gets.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, pulling the throw pillow he’s clutching up to his face. 

Jeno nods, and there’s a moment of silence.

“So what do you feel about the rest of us?”

“I don’t want to tell you,” Jaemin says, muffled against the corduroy. “You made me think about Donghyuck and what he does during his private time for like an hour. Why would I tell you anything? I trusted you.”

“I’m sorry.” Jeno doesn’t sound sorry at all, and Jaemin sighs dramatically. “But you can’t blame me.”

“No, I’m very proud. My innocent Jeno making dick jokes. I feel like a dad at a soccer game cheering for a kid that’s not mine, except the soccer ball hit me right in the sensitives.”

Jeno snickers. “Thanks. But I still want to know how you can tell the difference between the rest of us.”

“Um,” Jaemin says, deciding it’s better to just get it over with. “When something happens to Mark, it feels like I just licked a coin or something. A weird metallic taste on the back of my tongue. If it’s Jisung, it kind of feels like I have a cramp in my thumb. Like a pinched nerve or something. Renjun feels like someone put an ice cube on the back of my hand. If something happened to Chenle everything smells like cilantro, which is weird because I think I have that gene that makes me hate cilantro. Smells like soap.”

“And me?”

 _When something happens to you,_ Jaemin thinks, _my chest feels like the best kind of heartache._ “Kinda feels like heartburn.”

“Wow,” Jeno says, drawing the sound out. “So Donghyuck gets honey toes and I get acid reflux.”

“Exactly.” Jaemin ducks out of reach of Jeno’s hand reaching to smack the back of his head. “But that’s better than a thumb cramp.”

“I guess,” Jeno grumbles, and Jaemin laughs, grabbing Jeno and pressing close. 

_If only you knew,_ he thinks, _how much I feel when it comes to you._ He ignores the near-constant ache in his chest and turns his attention back to the TV.

❂

Mark never really, truly understood the phrase “the elephant in the room” as anything more than a way to address tension, until today. All the sword is doing is sitting on his bed between him and Donghyuck, and yet it’s the only thing he can think about. Donghyuck, to his credit, looks more reserved about the matter, maybe after he realized that Mark doesn’t think that the sword prophecy thing was as cool as he does.

“Okay,” Mark says, staring at the thing. “Give me the story one more time.”

Donghyuck nods.

“Okay.” 

❂

It’s not uncommon for Donghyuck to wander, to go on strolls. Ever since he was a kid, his mom has half-joked about putting him on a leash. The only thing that’s changed as he’s gotten older is the length of time he can go before she checks to make sure he’s still alive. There’s always something new to see, something new to find. 

The city he was born and grew up in, unfittingly named Regular, is anything but. Donghyuck’s mom is the first one who told him about magic, when he saw a woman save a falling coffee cup without touching it. His mother sat him down and explained to him that some people, but not everyone, are able to do things that textbooks and teachers can’t explain. 

“Everyone has a little bit of magic,” she told a five-year-old Donghyuck, “you just have to find it.”

Donghyuck’s not sure if she meant “find it” literally or figuratively, but he figured trying both would be the fastest way to find his magic. 

So he wanders.

He wanders, and he collects feathers, and stones, and any sparkly thing that catches his eye. He has a box at home where he keeps anything that might end up being magic, and makes sure to show all of them to his very best friend Mark, who moved to Regular when he was six years old. Mark doesn’t believe in magic. He thinks it’s not possible, and uses all kinds of fancy words that six-year-olds shouldn’t know to tell Donghyuck he’s wrong. 

So Donghyuck does everything he can to prove the other wrong. He takes him to the weird patches of the forest where grass doesn’t grow, and to the specific part of the river where the water shows you someone else’s reflection. He shows Mark the wall in the public library where writing appears on it’s own, and the woman who can make any candy a child could ever ask for (he’s not sure if that’s magic or if Mrs. Kim is just very good at her job). Mark humors him but definitely seems more interested in laughing at Donghyuck when he trips over pebbles. 

Donghyuck thinks, as he walks down a new side street, that it’s mostly his fault Mark believes in magic now. Even though Mark never told him what changed he figures that something they saw must have convinced him. The specifics aren’t important. 

“Excuse me,” someone says, and Donghyuck looks, because Donghyuck is always looking, over at the boy sitting on a rock, one leg crossed beneath the other. Donghyuck’s never seen him before. He thinks he would remember if he’d seen someone this striking. The boy has hair like starlight, almost blinding, and sharp gray eyes. 

“I’ve never seen you before,” Donghyuck says, and the boy laughs.

“I’ve seen you before though.”

“Fair. Do you need help?”

“Hmm.” The boy climbs off his rock, digging in his pocket. “No. _I_ don’t need any help. But there’s someone who does and you’re the only one who can do it.”

He hands Donghyuck a brown napkin with a map drawn on it in sparkly silver pen.

“Is this from Starbucks?”

“The napkin is from Starbucks, the map is from me. There’s something you need to go find in the forest.” The boy presses the napkin into Donghyuck’s hand. “There are a lot of things depending on you, Donghyuck. You’ll understand eventually.”

Donghyuck stares at the map and says the only thing that comes to mind, “You’re not very good at drawing.”

The boy throws his head back and laughs, leaving Donghyuck momentarily stunned at the sound. “Good luck. Go.”

So Donghyuck goes into the forest. He’s lived in Regular his whole life and explores the forest every chance he gets. He’d like to say he has a pretty good sense of direction, even in the dark and twisting trails. But as he twists the napkin and keeps walking, stepping over roots and around suspiciously perfect circles of mushrooms, he realizes he’s never been here before.

He reaches the end of the map, a line leading straight into nothing.

“Well,” he says out loud. “I followed the map. What am I supposed to find?”

After a moment of silence, a whisper comes from between the trees. 

“ _You’ve found it,”_ the voice says. _“You just have to look again.”_

And because Donghyuck is always looking, he does. He catches a glint of light from between the undergrowth, and pushes through the leaves until he breaks into a clearing with a shallow pool of water. It’s not very big and Donghyuck can see the bottom, covered with grass and stones that certainly don’t look like they’re covered with water. It looks as if someone spilled a glass of water over the forest floor and it stuck instead of seeping into the ground. The water is completely clear, and in the middle, resting between two mossy rocks, is a sword.

“ _It’s yours,”_ the whisper says, “ _if only you’ll reach out and take it.”_

And Donghyuck believes in magic like he believes in gravity, so he wades into the water, deceivingly deep, and takes the sword, faintly glowing. 

❂

“And then when I got out of the pond, I turned around and it was gone and all I had was this sword.”

“Can I touch it?” 

“Sure,” Donghyuck says, shrugging. Mark’s not really sure if he actually wants to touch the sword, but satisfaction brought the cat back so he carefully grasps it by the hilt and pulls it closer to examine. He doesn’t miss Donghyuck scooting a little closer on the bed when Mark moves it.

The sword isn’t as heavy as he thought it was, well balanced and light. The hilt and pommel are made of gold, intricate curls and delicate lines. In the center is an insignia of a sun, complex and Mark runs his finger over the rays, stretching out to the edges. The center of the sun is multi-faceted, covered in tiny orange stones that catch the light at different angles. He twists it over in his hands and stares at the text on the other side, written in a language he’s never seen before. It’s beautiful, and Mark can’t recognize any of the characters.

“What does it say?”

“I have no idea,” Donghyuck answers, peering over Mark’s shoulder. “The whisper didn’t tell me.”

Mark hums, and continues his investigation. There’s a guard on the sword, something Mark only knows because Jisung took a fencing class once and wouldn’t shut up about how much he had learned. The guard is made of the same gold as the hilt, stretching out and curling over where his hand would rest if he was wielding it. The blade of the sword isn’t that long, maybe the length of Mark’s arm, and has a narrow channel running down the center. It’s made of silver, or maybe steel, and both edges are almost impossibly sharp. 

“It won’t hurt you,” Donghyuck says quietly, watching Mark hesitate to continue exploring. “It doesn’t want to.”

“Please hold off on talking about it like it’s a person,” Mark replies, nonetheless gathering the will to run his finger along the flat of the blade. At the base, close to the guard, there are clusters of small stars stamped into the metal, each one lined with gold. “Well,” he says, handing the sword back to Donghyuck, whose posture relaxes slightly upon getting it back, “it’s certainly the prettiest sword I’ve ever seen.”

Donghyuck grins, lightly tossing it from hand to hand and Mark leans away. “It is, isn’t it? It likes you.”

“How do you know?”

Donghyuck shrugs. “I dunno. I can just tell. When I picked it up it kind of felt like something clicked into place, and now I’m like, weirdly in tune with it. Did you feel it when you touched it?”

Mark shakes his head. “Nope.”

“Interesting,” Donghyuck says, staring at the stars littering the blade. “I guess it is mine.”

“I think we should go talk to Chenle,” Mark finally says, tearing his gaze away from the sword that has started swimming in his vision. “He’d know more about this… magic-y stuff. Maybe Renjun can help too. The voice didn’t tell you what your quest was?”

“Nope.”

“Alright.” Mark sighs, and stands up. He rummages under his bed for a moment before finding the thick duffel bag he used to use for lacrosse practice. “Here.” Donghyuck eyes the bag and then looks at Mark questioningly. “For the sword, idiot,” Mark elaborates, tossing it at Donghyuck. “You can’t leave it here, right? You’ll get itchy or whatever. And I’d rather not walk around with you just holding a sword. Just like. Try not to stab anyone. And ask it not to rip it.”

Something softens in Donghyuck’s gaze and Mark files that away in the “2 A.M. crisis” folder. Recently it seems to be filling up with just thoughts of Donghyuck, but that’s something Mark will address later, at two in the morning. He stretches, watching Donghyuck slide off his bed, and grabs his house keys from his bedside table. 

❂

Luckily for them, both Renjun and Chenle are at the store, nameless except for the word “dream” written in Chinese on the window. 

_“It’s not the name,” Chenle had said when Mark asked. Renjun nodded._

_“It’s what we’re here for.”_

Renjun and Chenle sound a lot cooler when you don’t know them, Mark thinks, staring at Renjun shouting at Chenle through the window. Donghyuck opens the door, duffle bag strapped across his back.

“-them away, I told you to do it ages ago!”

Chenle rolls his eyes and throws a rag at Renjun. “Five minutes is not ages, you’re just being dramatic! So what if I maybe left a few flowers out-”

“Out?? You left them in the sun! You know what the sun does to plants-”

“And! I only did so because _you_ told me I should be cleaning the pots instead of reorganizing the displays,” Chenle says in a weak mimicry of Renjun.

Renjun switches to Chinese and continues yelling at Chenle, who blatantly ignores him, shoving dried flowers into a bag.

“Are we interrupting something?” Donghyuck says, and both of the witches whip around to face them.

“Oh! Donghyuck! I had a feeling I’d be seeing you soon,” Renjun says, and Chenle sighs, dropping the bag onto a shelf.

“Hey, Mark. What’d Donghyuck do this time?”

“I’m insulted you think I wouldn’t just come visit because you’re my friends,” Donghyuck grumbles, and Mark high-fives Chenle.

“He followed a stranger’s map on a Starbucks napkin into the forest and found a magical sword that I guess has given him a quest.”

Renjun looks over from where he’s drawing lines with dust on a not-amused Donghyuck. “A what?”

Chenle perks up in interest, and wrestles the duffle bag off of Donghyuck’s back before he can stop him. “A magical sword and a quest? Why didn’t you say so sooner?”

“We just got here,” Mark says even though Chenle isn’t listening. “Also, the sword doesn’t like it when it’s not near Donghyuck.”

Renjun nods sagely as if that makes any sense, and drags Donghyuck to a table at the back of the cluttered store, leaving Mark to pick his way through stacks of books and boxes of assorted magical goods. “Of course it doesn’t. If it’s his destined quest item-”

“Then of course it would need to be near him,” Chenle finishes, dodging the swipe of Renjun’s hand and tipping the sword carefully onto the table. “Probably has some sort of property bond,” he muses, peering closer. 

“I’m pretty sure you can touch it,” Donghyuck offers after watching Chenle poke at it cautiously for a minute. “So far it likes everyone I like.”

“Like Mark?” Renjun asks, and he and Chenle share an exasperated look that Mark feels like he should understand. 

“Yes.”

Chenle mutters something in Chinese and Renjun laughs that way he does when there’s something the two of them know they’re right about but won’t tell anyone. It’s annoying. Mark thinks, not for the first time, that he should learn Chinese just so he can understand.

“Do you know how to read this? Here?” Donghyuck points to the inscription over the hilt, and Chenle hums, leaning in.

“I think so. I haven’t seen this script in years. Renjun, could you go grab that magic encyclopedia we have? The one with the glossary?”

“You have an encyclopedia?” Mark asks as Renjun nods and ducks behind a curtain, and is ignored. Donghyuck, at least, hears him and laughs. 

When Renjun reappears, he’s holding a massive, impossibly old-looking book. Mark is unsettled by the way he slams it down onto the table, quickly flipping through the pages. The paper is almost veneer thin and looks delicate but, Mark considers, as he thinks about if it is going to rip, this store is full of magic. The book is probably all or a little magic.

Renjun lets out a little, “ah-ha!” and spreads the book open. Mark can’t help but try to catch a glimpse of it, of the curling, cursive words spread over the page and Renjun shakes his head. 

“Mark Lee,” he says seriously, suddenly ominous, “I wouldn’t be looking if I were you. Who knows what this book could hold,” he murmurs, “and what it could do to you.”

Mark flinches back so violently that Donghyuck has to reach out and grab his arm, looking similarly alarmed until Chenle starts to laugh, high pitched and loud.

“The book’s in Latin,” he says between squeaks. “You- you wouldn’t be able to read it anyways. Shoulda- you should have seen the look on your face, holy shit. Good one, Renjun.”

The grin on Renjun’s face is absolutely shit-eating, and Mark resists the urge to either deck him in the mouth or leave, deciding neither would help his case. He manages to get his heart rate under control after a few choice words directed at a still-giggling Renjun and Chenle. He glances at Donghyuck, who hasn’t released his arm yet, and has his face pressed into Mark’s shoulder.   
“Hyuck?”

Donghyuck shakes his head, and Mark suddenly feels like Renjun and Chenle deserve some more curse words, so he tells them to fuck off and pats Donghyuck’s head until he straightens up. He’s not about to ask why Renjun’s shitty practical joke scared him so much, but he makes a note to remember to do so later. 

Back at the sword, the two witches have composed themselves enough to start scanning over the words, comparing them to the book. They’re whispering to each other, pointing at characters on the sword and then tracing them out in the book. When Renjun looks up, his eyes have a weird glassy look to them.

“It says, _The sun must know the love of the moon if it is to rise._ ”

❂


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this story may include more angst than i was anticipating  
> -mentions of past character death  
> -sort of an anxiety attack but pretty brief and not detailed

“It says what?” Mark asks dumbly, staring at Renjun, who shrugs.

“The sun must know the love of the moon if it is to rise,” he repeats needlessly.

“Thanks,” Mark mutters, shaking his head. Renjun just grins. “So what does it  _ mean _ ?”

“No idea.”

“Oh my god,” Mark says, “you are the most useless witches I’ve ever heard of.”

“But you’ve heard of us!” Chenle says, laughing. “That means something.”

Mark sighs. He’s been doing a lot of that lately. More than usual, which is already a lot. “If there isn’t anything else you can tell us we’ll be on our way.”

“Nothing else yet,” Renjun says, and then, more seriously, continues, “but I’ll chat with the spirits tonight and let you know if I learn anything else. This is clearly a quest, but I’m not sure what exactly the goal is. Donghyuck,” he says, turning to him, who is uncharacteristically quiet. “Is there anything else you can remember? From the forest, or the voice?” Donghyuck shakes his head, and Renjun turns back to the sword. “Well, if you remember anything, call. I have a feeling this is something bigger than anything I’ve ever seen.”

Mark nods, not listening. Instead, he looks at Donghyuck, who’s avoiding eye contact. “Uh, okay. We will. I’m gonna- gonna take the sun moon sword now. Bye.”

Chenle stops them at the door to mutter some weird phrases, brushing more weird dust on Donghyuck and then Mark. “For your safety,” he says, smiling. “I think I’ll make you a sheath for the sword,” he directs at Donghyuck. “Something cool and magical. Be careful! Don’t walk under any ladders. It’s a crescent waning moon tonight and you know how the ladders feel about crescent waning moons.”

“Uh-huh.” Mark hikes the duffle bag with the sword higher on his shoulder, glancing at Donghyuck. “Will do. No ladders.”

They leave the magic store after a few more vague warnings, and Mark starts to walk in the direction of his house. Donghyuck doesn’t follow.

“Hyuck?” 

After a moment of silence, Donghyuck lets out a long breath. “Let’s go,” he says, staring into the forest. 

“Into the forest?”

“No, dumbass,” he says, seemingly back to normal. “To Jaemin’s house.”

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Donghyuck grabs Mark’s hand and starts pulling him in the direction of their friend’s house. “Nothing.”

“I’d be a pretty shitty best friend if I couldn’t tell something was wrong,” Mark says without resisting. “Will you tell me later?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Donghyuck repeats, more to himself than Mark, and then, after a second, “and yes. I’ll tell you later.” Mark nods, satisfied. He lengthens his stride to catch up, wrapping his fingers tighter with Donghyuck’s and thinking about how warm and comforting he feels. 

“Do you want the sword?” Mark asks after a few moments of walking. Jaemin’s house is not far from the store, but that can be said for most of Regular. It’s still about a ten-minute walk though, and Mark is very conscious of the sword strapped to his back and how Donghyuck says it doesn’t like to be away from him.

“No. I think it’s happy where it is. But don’t let go of my hand.”

There are a million things Mark would rather do than let go of Donghyuck’s hand in that moment, but he doesn’t say that. “Okay. It, uh.” He pauses, and then decides he’s going to sound insane no matter how he says it. “ How can you tell? That it doesn’t like someone? Is it like… telepathy?”

Donghyuck stops walking so quickly that Mark’s hand is yanked back with him, and he turns to see his best friend staring at him with the most incredulous expression he’s seen. Which, he thinks, before Donghyuck even opens his mouth, isn’t fair. The whole situation is crazy anyways.

“Do you think,” Donghyuck says slowly, as if to process each word, “that I am telepathically communicating with my sword?”

Mark feels his face start to heat up and turn red and sighs.

Jaemin opens the door before they even get there, could probably hear Donghyuck’s shrieking laughter from down the street. 

“Na Jaemin!” Donghyuck says, and Mark lunges at him, slapping a hand over his mouth. “Mark-”

“Mark nothing,” Mark says, ignoring Donghyuck disgustingly licking his palm. “Donghyuck found a magic sword in the forest. He has a quest.”

Donghyuck bites the meat of his hand and then ducks under his arm. “Mark thinks my sword is talking to me!” He shouts, running into the house. “He’s finally lost it.”

Jaemin watches him go and then turns to Mark. “Um, what?”

“That’s my line,” Mark says darkly, stalking past him and kicking his shoes off. Jaemin shrugs.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but for the record, I thought you lost it a while ago.”

“Na Jaemin!”

When they finally make it up to Jaemin’s room after wrestling in the foyer, Donghyuck has already caught Jeno up on most of what’s happened. 

“-and then Renjun said that the writing said some crazy shit like the sun-”

“Must know the love of the moon if it is to rise,” Mark finishes.

“That!” Donghyuck says, pointing at Mark. “And then we came straight here.”

Jeno nods, and Jaemin takes it upon himself to slip the sword off Mark’s shoulder, and tosses it on the bed with a grin.   
“So, a magic sword?”

“Don’t throw it!” Donghyuck yells, snatching the duffle bag and pulling it closer. “It doesn’t like to be thrown. Fuck you.”

Jaemin looks at him for a long second, and then blinks. “Does it talk to you? Like, in your mind?”

“God,” Donghyuck groans, holding the bag to his chest. “Why am I surrounded by such idiots?”

“You’re my new favorite,” Mark says to Jaemin, who frowns.

“What?”

“So,” Jeno cuts in smoothly, “the stranger and then the voice in the forest decided that it was your quest?”

“Yeah! I don’t know what the quest is though. But, I’m like the chosen one. Isn’t that cool?” 

Mark is suddenly very grateful for Jeno as he says, “I guess it’s cool, but it sounds dangerous. And kind of sketchy.”

“Jeno is my new favorite,” Mark decides, and Jaemin pouts.

Donghyuck groans again. “Boring. That’s why it’s cool! It’s an adventure! How often do we ever get to do anything in this damn town? The last real exciting thing that happened was Renjun accidentally turning Chenle into a frog. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Famous last words,” Jeno says pointedly. “I know you’re gonna do whatever it is you’re gonna do anyways, and obviously we’re coming along, but maybe you should take this more seriously. Magic and quests and stuff aren’t all fun and games. There could be actual consequences. What if someone gets hurt? What if the price of the quest is too high? Have you thought much about this beyond, ‘I get a cool sword’?”

“Jeno, I love you,” Mark says, and Donghyuck throws his hands up.

“Ugh! Jaemin, back me up. Doesn’t it sound cool?”

Jaemin shrugs, clearly unsure of what to do. “I mean, I guess it just be like that.”

“You can’t just “it be like that” to his chosen one drama!” Jeno chastises, smacking his arm. Jaemin flinches away.

“I can and just did.” He rubs the spot on his arm. “If it’s a quest, and Donghyuck already has the sword and it’s talking to him, it’s already like that. We can’t change it. The only options we have are to ignore it, which is literally never a good idea when it comes to magic quests, or to see it through.” Donghyuck makes to high five him but Jaemin dodges. “But, I agree with Jeno. You wouldn’t have been given a quest and a magic sword if it wasn’t something big. Plus, I kind of have a bad feeling about this.”

Donghyuck flops back on the bed. “Next thing you know you’ll be telling me you’re also a witch and can see the future,” he says dryly, and Mark almost misses the look that Jeno and Jaemin share. “Fine. The quest and magic is not a joke and should be taken seriously. Please acknowledge that it is at least pretty fucking cool.”

“Duh,” Jaemin says, grinning. “This is the coolest thing that’s ever happened to you.”

“It’s pretty awesome,” Jeno agrees, and Mark lies down on the floor and shuts his eyes. The headache is back, pounding against his forehead.

“That’s it, none of you are my favorite.”

“Mark,” Jeno says, talking to him for the first time since they walked in the room. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Mark answers, feeling distinctly not-fine. “It’s all fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” Jaemin leans over him and pokes his cheek until Mark blinks up at him. “You look kind of like you’re going to be sick.”

“I’m not going to be sick. Why would I be sick? I’m fine.” He fights down the urge to vomit that he hadn’t realized was building in the back of his throat. He closes his eyes again. “It’s fine. It be like that.”

“Mark?” Donghyuck’s voice. Mark contemplates running to the bathroom. Or finding the nearest trash can. Maybe he is going to be sick.

Hysterics are not really Mark’s thing. But here, lying on the floor of Jaemin’s bedroom, a weird sense of panic settling in the pit of his stomach, he gets it. 

He vaguely registers Donghyuck talking to Jeno and Jaemin, and then the door of the bedroom opens and closes. He feels someone settle on the floor next to him, and then pick his head up and put it on a firm thigh. 

“Mark,” Donghyuck says quietly, brushing his fingers through Mark’s hair. “Talk to me.”

Mark exhales. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Donghyuck hums, and waits for Mark to continue.

“I’m very glad you think this quest thing is so cool,” Mark starts, willing his voice to stay steady. “And that everyone else is on board. But you know magic shit is still kind of scary to me. I’m not used to it like you are. I went from waking up this morning thinking about what to order for lunch and now my best friend has a magical sword and a quest that they have to figure out. And the stories I’ve read about magical quests are not always pleasant. I’m worried that you aren’t taking this as seriously as you should be. It’s stressing me out.”

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

“When was I gonna say anything?” Mark sighs. “You seem really excited about it. And then we were running to the magic store, and then here, and Jaemin and Jeno seem to be mostly on the same page. I feel out of place as the only one not hyped about the magical quest.”

For how abrasive Donghyuck usually is, he has his moments. “I would have listened,” he says, fingers still lightly playing with Mark’s hair, rough from years of dye. “Sorry. I didn’t ask you how you were feeling about this whole thing. I know you aren’t used to magic. You know you don’t have to come along.”

“Like hell I’m letting you go on some crazy adventure without me,” Mark interrupts quickly, and Donghyuck laughs.

“Right. But you still don’t have to. I think we’ve had a long day and maybe it would be good to go home for the night. We can talk more about all this quest stuff in the morning. Maybe Renjun and Chenle will have some more info about it and can help.”

“I’m sorry I’m being dumb about this,” Mark mumbles, opening his eyes finally to look up at Donghyuck, who smiles at him. 

“You’re not being dumb. This time, at least.”

“Thanks,” Mark says, and Donghyuck laughs again, tossing his head back. 

“Any time. Let’s go. Jaemin said he’d make dinner.” The promise of Jaemin’s cooking is enough for Mark to summon the energy to stand, waiting until Donghyuck picks the sword up off the bed to leave the room. Jaemin and Jeno don’t ask any questions, and the fancy pasta Jaemin made is enough for Mark to almost forget about the sword, if it wasn’t for Donghyuck setting it on the table next to him. They don’t talk about it for the rest of the evening.

Mark barely remembers to ask Donghyuck about why he was being so weird earlier when Renjun pulled that mean joke about the book.

“Oh,” Donghyuck says, frowning at the sidewalk as they head home together. “I was hoping you’d forget.” Mark shrugs and Donghyuck sighs. “How come you’re only so observant about stuff I’d rather you not be?”

“What does that mean?” Mark asks, and can admit to himself he sounds a little clueless, mostly because he is.

“Nothing. Anyways, about earlier.” Donghyuck pauses, staring at his shoes. Mark dutifully guides him around a root growing through the pavement. “It was a shitty joke. Not funny. I thought they would know better to make jokes like that around you. Considering…” He cuts himself off, and Mark waits. “You know, considering what happened,” Donghyuck finishes, quietly and looking at Mark through his bangs.

“Oh,” Mark says, suddenly understanding the reason for his own brief, paralyzing terror at one stupid joke. “Oh.”

“I could tell you didn’t even realize, of course,” Donghyuck sighs. “Which is why I didn’t say anything.” He grabs Mark’s hand and Mark laces their fingers together out of habit. “But I guess I wasn’t able to stay as cool as I hoped since you noticed anyways.” 

“Yeah,” Mark mumbles, lost in thought. He sees Donghyuck looking at him again, this time with concern, and smiles hopefully reassuringly. “I’m fine. You’re here and that was a long time ago.”

❂

When Mark is four years old, he doesn’t believe in magic. His dad teaches him all about why the sky is blue and why his mother’s favorite vase broke when he dropped it. He gets a junior science kit and a guitar, and his mother tells him that music and words can make things seem like they aren’t, but to always remember what is and isn’t real.

When Mark is five, his father doesn’t come back from work one day. His mother explains to him, with black lines coming from her eyes running down her face, that he won’t be coming back from work at all. Mark learns what dying means, and then understands loss when his mother tells him that they’re moving, that he has to pack up all his toys and say goodbye to his friends at kindergarten. He doesn’t really grasp the concept of what it means to not have a dad yet, but he knows that everyone in his school looks at him with sad eyes and says sorry to him. Mark thinks his mom is the strongest person ever when he sees her standing alone on his last day of school, surrounded by all the other kids and their mom and still-alive dads. So they move to a weird town called Regular.

At six, Mark meets his new neighbors. They’re called the Lees, just like him and his mom. Mrs. Lee is very pretty, but not as pretty as Mark’s mom, and they laugh when he tells her that. 

“Sorry,” he hears his mom say, smiling, and Mrs. Lee tells her it’s all right, that she thinks Mark is cute. 

They have a son named Donghyuck, and Mark’s mom seems very happy when they tell her that he’s only a year younger than Mark. She says something about hoping they can become friends, and then the adults move into the kitchen to keep talking, leaving Mark and the boy alone in the living room. 

“Your name is Mark?” Mark nods. “I’m Donghyuck! You’re kind of quiet. Why are you so quiet? You’re only a year older than me, right?”

At five years old, Donghyuck speaks faster than anyone Mark has ever met. He nods again and Donghyuck smiles. 

“Let’s be best friends, Mark!”

Mark nods.

When Mark is seven years old, Donghyuck tells him about magic. 

“Magic isn’t real,” Mark says, watching Donghyuck poke at rocks with sticks. 

Donghyuck scoffs, very carefully peering at a round, barely glittering rock. “Yes it is. I’ve seen it.”

“It’s not,” Mark insists. “Everything has an explanation. Magic doesn’t exist.”

“It does. I’ll prove it to you,” a very passionate, very small Donghyuck tells Mark. “I’ll show you someday.”

When Mark is ten years old, he still doesn’t believe in magic. At least, not the same way Donghyuck does. But he does start to notice the way his mom looks less sad when he plays her a new song on his guitar, or how she smiles when the neighborhood moms all tell her how good her cookies are.

“My mom’s cookies are magic,” Mark says to Donghyuck one day, munching on a chocolate chip cookie. “They make people happy.”

“So you do believe in magic!” Donghyuck says, jumping off of the swing in Mark’s backyard with a shout.

“I still don’t believe in your kind of magic,” Mark says, and grins crookedly back at Donghyuck when he pouts. “My mom’s cookies are magic because they taste so good. I can still explain it.”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes and lunges at Mark, rolling around on the grass while yelling at him about magic. Maybe this is another kind of magic, Mark thinks, laughing until his stomach hurts. 

When Mark is twelve, he meets Jeno. And Jaemin, and Renjun. Jaemin is loud, and very funny, and easy to make fun of. Jeno smiles a lot, and never wrestles with Mark the way Jaemin and Donghyuck do. Renjun says it’s because Jeno doesn’t like seeing anyone get hurt, even on accident, and Donghyuck says it’s because Jeno is like a delicate butterfly. Mark disagrees, because the hit that Jeno lands on Donghyuck’s arm certainly isn’t delicate.

Renjun is the weirdest person Mark has ever met, probably. He’s not from Regular either, but lives in a weird little house with his cousin and their grandma. Donghyuck is delighted to find a new friend who believes in magic as much as if not more than he does. Renjun tells them proudly that he’s a witch, and Mark wonders if Renjun is going to be Donghyuck’s new best friend. At twelve, Mark learns about jealousy.

He still doesn’t believe in magic, not like that, but he does have to admit that some of the things that Renjun does don’t make a lot of sense. He’s pretty sure it just means he has a lot more to learn. He has also had to admit that some of the things that happen in Regular also don’t make sense. But Mark is only twelve.

At sixteen, Mark experiences magic for the first time. But still not the way Donghyuck does. Instead, he sees magic in Koeun’s eyes when she asks him shyly if he’ll go to the dance with her. The magic doesn’t last very long, because Mark realizes he doesn’t really like her that much, but he still goes to the dance and tells her how pretty she looks in her dress. She understands. 

Jaemin was asked by almost the entire school if he would go to the dance with them, and no one asked Jeno. So Jaemin brought Jeno, spinning with him under the cheap lights in the gym of their high school. Koeun takes a few selfies with Mark, kisses him on the cheek, and then goes to find her friends. Mark sits on his own for a few minutes, watching Jeno step all over Jaemin’s feet, until Donghyuck stomps up to him, frowning.

“Donghyuck?” Mark says, confused. “Are you-”

“You have to break up with Koeun,” Donghyuck says, and his voice is shaky. 

“What?” Mark is even more confused. “Koeun and I aren’t-”

“I don’t like her,” Donghyuck says, his voice getting higher. “I don’t like her! I think that- that you- you’re not compatible!” 

Mark blinks at his best friend for a while. Compatible was a word on Donghyuck’s writing test last week. “What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me,” Donghyuck practically yells, and his bottom lip is quivering. Mark quickly pulls him out of the gym when he notices how many people are watching them. 

“Koeun and I aren’t dating or anything,” he says, lacing his fingers with Donghyuck, who stares at their hands. “I already told her I don’t like her that much.”

“Then…” Donghyuck stops, chewing on his fingernail. “Why’d you come to the dance with her?”

Mark shrugs. “I dunno. It was pretty fun to dance with her for a minute. Plus, my mom was happy when I told her. Koeun is really pretty.”

Donghyuck scowls. “Well,” he sniffs, fifteen and learning what jealousy means, “good. I don’t like her. You’re  _ my  _ best friend.”

“Even if I was dating her you’d still be my best friend,” Mark offers, and they go back to the gym. “There’s nothing that could change that.”

Mark is nineteen when he truly is forced to reckon with magic, the kind that Donghyuck believes in. He stopped denying magic at every chance years ago, mostly because it wasn’t worth arguing with Donghyuck or Renjun about, or Renjun’s cousin Chenle, who also insists he’s a witch. Looking back, Mark wishes it wasn’t the way he had to start believing in magic, but as Jaemin says, it be like that.

As many things in his life do, it starts and ends with Donghyuck.

  
  


❂


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for some magical body horror, i guess, but it's not too gory and everything turns out fine!! no worries but you can skip to "Do you believe in magic now, Mark?" if you dont want to read it ^^

As many things in his life do, it starts with an adventure.

“Please, Mark,” Donghyuck says, turning his best begging eyes at him. “Please. It’ll be fast. I just want to try it. And it’s not like you need to do that much, just like, be there! And hold on to it. The spell says it needs two people.”

“Donghyuck,” Mark says nervously, looking down at the wooden stick Donghyuck is clutching, with brightly colored strings tied in complicated knots around it. Mark knows that there are some weird little flowers that Donghyuck pawned off Renjun pinned to the core of the pinewood branch. Donghyuck is intently looking between the knots that he made and the pages of a supposed spell book he found in a pile of donated possessions at the thrift store. “I don’t know.”

“Mark,” Donghyuck whines, pouting. “Please? It’ll be fine.”

“I…” Mark stares at the stick, looking for all intents and purposes like a summer camp craft. “Hyuck, I don’t feel good about this.”

“You don’t even really believe in magic,” Donghyuck says, bottom lip pushing out even further. “So it doesn’t have to mean anything to you. For me? Please? I’m asking nicely.”

“You’re asking very nicely,” Mark says, frowning, “but I still don’t know. I-”

“Come on.” Donghyuck offers the stick to him, looking sort of like a puppy who wasn’t given a toy, and Mark can feel his resolve crumbling. “Don’t you trust me? I said it’ll be fine.”

_ It’s not that I don’t trust you,  _ Mark wants to say, but doesn’t. “I…”

Maybe it’s a testament to how long they’ve been friends, or maybe Donghyuck just knows Mark better than he knows himself, because he’s already pressing the stick into Mark’s hand, grinning at him, brighter than the sun. Mark feels kind of faint and he can’t decide if it’s because of how pretty Donghyuck looks, what that thought implies, or because Donghyuck is humming, fixing Mark’s grip on the wood. The spell is supposed to do something like ensure Donghyuck has clear skin until the next full moon or something like that, and Donghyuck stress eats chocolate en masse around finals, which means a smattering of acne on his cheeks that he hates (Mark will never say it to him, but he thinks that Donghyuck looks fine, even as his best friend complains about the supposed huge pimples all over his face). 

“Thanks,” Donghyuck says, beaming, and of course Mark was going to say yes in the end. 

“Sure,” he mumbles. “So what do I have to do?”

“Just,” Donghyuck consults the book, “hold on to the end like this, and then think uh, clean thoughts. Not oily ones.”

“Um,” Mark says, “okay.”

He stares at Donghyuck’s hands where they’re wrapped around the other end of the stick and tries to tune out the way Donghyuck is mumbling unintelligible phrases. He opts to think about clear skin instead, and ends up shifting his gaze to Donghyuck’s face. The sun is casting a really pretty golden glow on his skin, and Mark absently traces his eyes down his cheekbones. He doesn’t know why Donghyuck wants to do this spell because Mark is of the opinion that Donghyuck’s skin is perfect, pimples or not. 

He’s so distracted staring at the little mole under Donghyuck’s eye that he doesn’t notice Donghyuck’s mumbling stop, doesn’t see him frowning at the stick, doesn’t catch his gaze sliding to Mark. What he does notice, though, is the weird, uncomfortable feeling that starts to creep over his cheeks.

“Mark,” Donghyuck gasps, dropping the stick immediately. “Fuck- Mark-” His eyes go very wide, and Mark feels his blood run cold.

“Donghyuck,” he says carefully, trying to stay calm even as his skin heats up unnaturally. “Why did you drop the stick?”

“Mark,” Donghyuck whispers weakly, staring at him. “Mark,” he says like it’s the only word he remembers. “Please- don’t freak out, Mark.”

“Donghyuck,” Mark repeats, fear creeping into his chest. His face is hot, edging on painful, and there’s a very strange rolling sensation over his cheeks. “Donghyuck, what’s going on?”

“Don’t- don’t panic,” Donghyuck says, and Mark would like to think that the way he’s tearing up is all in his head. The fire under his skin is molten, and he doesn’t move. It feels like every part of his face is exposed to a candle flame. 

“It’s a little late for that,” he responds faintly, and tries very hard not to panic. It hurts now, and continues to build. “What’s happening, Donghyuck?”

“I’m- shit, Mark.” Donghyuck swallows, and Mark isn’t imagining the distress on his best friend’s face. “Mark- I’m, fuck- I’m- I’ll fix it, I’ll fix it, don’t freak out-”

“I’m not freaking out,” Mark lies mostly to himself, definitely freaking out because Donghyuck is about to cry and clearly something went wrong with the not-spell because Mark does not believe in magic. Something he doesn’t believe in can’t hurt him, he says internally to himself. Despite telling himself that, the way his skin is burning and boiling is probably not in his imagination. Probably. 

Donghyuck takes a half-step forward, lifting shaking hands up until he’s just inches away from Mark. “You- the, the spell must- it didn’t work, I- I don’t know what happened, I followed- I followed the book!” His voice climbs higher with each word, and he turns, almost knocking the book off the table in his frantic haste to pick it up. “What- I don’t understand-”

“Breathe,” Mark urges, the irony of his own struggling to inhale not lost on him. He wonders if his lungs are burning too. “Just- tell me what’s going on.”

“I fucked up,” Donghyuck says, shaking. “I fucked up, god, I don’t even- I don’t know what happened, but- your- your face-” He cuts himself off with a sob, flipping through the book so quickly one of the pages rips clean out. “No, I have to fix this, I- Mark, it’s fine, it’s fine. I’ll- I’m gonna, gonna figure it out, shit, Mark-”

“Please say something reassuring,” Mark interrupts very quietly, staring at Donghyuck, which has the opposite effect of what he intended.

“You’re going to be fine,” Donghyuck cries, and Mark thinks, for a moment, that he hasn’t seen him cry in months. “Just-” He leaves the book, scrambling for his phone and Mark watches him try unsuccessfully to unlock it four times before reaching over and doing it for him. Donghyuck looks up at him and then gasps, dropping the device back onto the floor. The screen protector shatters. “No, no no no no-”

“Donghyuck,” Mark weakly says, “what’s happening to my face?” The simmering and searing heat makes him afraid that if he touches his face he’ll feel the skin moving. 

Donghyuck picks up his phone, hissing as a broken piece of plexiglass pricks his finger, and desperately searches through his contacts despite the flickering screen. “Renjun, Renjun, please pick up- please, Mark, nothing- your face is fine,” his voice cracks, if Mark wasn’t so close to passing out he’d brush the tears off of his cheeks. Instead, he focuses on staying upright as it gets harder and harder to think past the awful, terrible feeling spreading to his neck. “You’re not- shit, Mark- I’m so,” Donghyuck chokes out, “fucking sorry- Renjun! Renjun, please, you have- you have to come to my house, please, Renjun, it’s Mark- I fucked up, please, just- hurry!”

Mark can hear Renjun’s voice faintly through the phone as Donghyuck drops it again without hanging up. He fights against his legs attempting to collapse under him.

“He’s- he’s coming, Mark, he’s gonna fix this.” Donghyuck turns to him and slowly raises his hands towards Mark, who doesn’t mean to flinch away even as he does. “I’m so sorry,” Donghyuck says, bridging the gap and carefully touching his shaking fingers to Mark’s jaw. Mark wonders if he can feel him burning. “I’m- I’m so- I’m sorry, Mark, I’m so sorry.” Donghyuck hiccups through a sob.

“Hey, Donghyuck,” Mark says, a single thought coming to mind. Donghyuck looks at him with tear-stained cheeks and Mark tries to smile. “I think I believe in magic, Hyuckie. Finally.”

Renjun bursts into Donghyuck’s room to find him shrieking at Mark, sobbing and furious. It’s a testament to Donghyuck’s state that he lets the witch push him out of the way as soon as he catches sight of Mark. 

“What happened?” He examines Mark’s face, tilting his head. He must see something because he’s quickly digging in the satchel slung over his shoulder. “Shit, Mark, you’ve looked better.”

“The spell didn’t work,” Donghyuck answers between heaving breaths. “I- I don’t know what I did wrong. I- I followed the book, and then I looked up and Mark was- and, you just have to fix it, Renjun, please.”

Renjun stares at Donghyuck for a moment and then pushes him out of the room and locks the door all at once. “I need to focus,” he says over Donghyuck’s shouting, “and you need to calm down. Drink some water and sit down or something. Mark will be fine.” He lowers his voice and tells Mark, “You’ll be fine. Luckily for Hyuck, the spell isn’t really that powerful in the first place, so even though it got messed up it should be pretty easy to fix.”

“What did he mess up?”

Renjun laughs, laying out some weird shaped rocks and what look kind of like bones. “I don’t know if you know this or not, but Hyuck’s not a witch or wizard or anything of the sort. I know he wants to be but magical ingredients do not a potion make.”

“What-”

“It’s a line from a very old poem,” Renjun says, sighing. “It sounds cool. Anyways. If he wants to be able to successfully wield magic there’s a lot more that he would have to be and learn than just a kid with a book and a stick. Hold still, please.” He pulls out some tins that look like they might be made for mints and starts mixing the goop inside of them together. Mark watches, fascinated. 

“Can you tell me what is happening to my face?”

“Oh.” The witch glances up at him and then back at his work. “It looks kind of like your skin is boiling. Kind of freaky, if I’m gonna be honest. I’ve seen worse though. It looks how you’d expect a backfired clear skin spell to look.”

“I see,” Mark says without any reference coming to mind. 

Renjun finishes stirring the mixture with one of the maybe-bones, and then spreads it on his fingers. “This shouldn’t hurt but might feel really, really cold. Do you want something to bite on?”

“What? Bite?”

The witch squints at him. “Nevermind.” He mutters a string of words that Mark can’t decipher, and then smears the greenish goo onto Mark’s burning cheeks. The fire gives way to ice, and Mark fights the instinct to flinch away. Renjun sees his eye twitch and laughs. “I warned you.”

“You did,” Mark grits out, clenching his teeth as Renjun rubs more of the potion onto his skin. 

“Do you believe in magic now, Mark?” 

“Hard not to.”

  
  


❂

  
  


“...Mark?”

Oh. They’re in front of Donghyuck’s house, not in his bedroom with Renjun rubbing ice onto his boiling cheeks. “Sorry. What’d you say?”

Donghyuck sighs and shakes his head, but he’s smiling that way he does when he thinks Mark is being dumb. “I know you’re fine, but it wasn’t really that long ago. Plus,” he looks away from Mark as he says, “you might be fine but it’s still fucking scary for me, okay? It’s gonna take me a while to forget that it was my fault you almost lost your whole handsome face. It was scary,” he finishes with a whisper, and Mark smiles.

“But you didn’t melt this handsome face,” he replies, ignoring Donghyuck’s answering grumble about being humble. “Let’s just try and figure out this quest, yeah? Everything will work out. It always does.”

“You’re dumb and optimistic,” Donghyuck points out, but he’s grinning. “Fine. Maybe Renjun will have figured something out by tomorrow.” He takes the duffle bag from Mark, who had almost forgotten about it. “This time,” he says, almost too quiet for Mark to hear, “I’m not gonna let anything happen.”

“Yeah! No more crazy quests after this though.” Donghyuck rolls his eyes and Mark frowns. “What? What’d I say this time?”

Donghyuck shakes his head with a smile. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you tomorrow, dork.” He pushes Mark lightly in the directions of his own house, just across the street. “Go home. Say hi to your mom for me.”

Mark waves and says goodnight, waiting until Donghyuck’s inside to go home. His mom’s car is in the driveway so he locks the door after toeing off his shoes.

“Hey, Mom!”

“Hey, hun,” his mom calls from the kitchen. “Have you eaten?”

“Nope.”

“Were you at Jaemin’s?”

“Yeah.” Mark scoops his mom’s coat off the floor and hangs it on the hook next to her work bag, which he makes sure has her keys and wallet before jogging to the kitchen. He’s not sure when it became a habit to make sure she has everything, but it was probably after the tenth call from her desk phone asking him to bring her her bag. He doesn’t mind. He can do this much for her. “With Donghyuck and Jeno. Hyuck says hi.”

“How’s my favorite son?”

Mark rolls his eyes, dropping into a stool at the kitchen island and shaking his head. “I’m great! Thanks for asking. Jeno is fine too.”

“How do you know I wasn’t asking about Donghyuck?” His mom asks without turning around, but Mark knows she’s laughing from the shake of her shoulders. He watches her stir whatever she’s making. 

“Because I know you’d adopt Jeno, but you told me that Donghyuck was sometimes better in small doses.”

She whirls around, brandishing a dripping spoon like a weapon. “I would never say that! Even if it’s true.”

“How was work?” Mark steers the conversation away from Donghyuck because if he doesn’t he’s gonna tell his mom all about the quest and the sword and she doesn’t need any more gray hairs. 

“Fine,” she says, sighing. 

“Is Mr. Shin still giving you trouble?”

“Of course!” She launches into a tirade about her boss and how much he’s trying to prevent her from getting a promotion. Mark listens, reminding her occasionally to stir the noodles, and getting out the plates and utensils. 

“-and Mr. Shin can stick it! I’m gonna get that promotion no matter what,” she ends with a flourish, aggressively dropping a piece of rosemary onto both piles of pasta. “Eat up.”

“Mr. Shin can stick it,” Mark agrees, laughing. He hands her a fork and they eat in relative silence, aside from his mom telling him to get seconds. 

“Hey Mom,” Mark asks after they’ve eaten, loading the dishes into the dishwasher. “Do you believe in magic?”

“Hmm? Where’s this coming from?” 

“Just curious. Hung out with Renjun and Chenle some today.” He decides that’s a safer bet than the sword thing.

“Oh! They’re so nice, you should invite them over more,” his mom says, tearing a cookie in half. “Do I believe in magic? I suppose so, yes. I think that there are things out there that can’t be explained, if that counts as magic. I don’t know if I believe that Renjun and Chenle are witches, and that there are fairy rings in the forest, but anything is possible. I think, at this point, it would make me sad to think that we’ve already learned what there is to learn about the world, and about how things work. So I’d say yes. Plus,” she adds, smiling at Mark, “life’s much more interesting when there’s a bit of magic involved.”

“You sound like Donghyuck,” Mark points out past the lump in his throat and his mom laughs.

“Is that so? I remember that he used to try to convince you magic was real. I had to check under your bed for rocks and other things that he used to leave as charms. I had a small collection, you know.” She stands, gently pushing Mark away from the last of the dishes. “Go to bed. You look like you’ve had a long day. The dishes can wait.”

“You've had a longer day than I have,” Mark says, grabbing her hand and dragging her out of the kitchen because if he lets her she’ll clean the whole thing. He’s not sure when he got to be so much taller than his mother, but he notices the difference now.

“That’s not what I mean,” she says, standing in front of his door with her hands on her hips. “You look wrung out and I can tell you don’t want to tell me about it, which is fine, but get some rest, okay?”

Mark nods, the lump in his throat thickening. “Okay. Thanks for dinner, Mom. Love you.”

“Love you too,” she says, patting his head, and then she’s padding down the hall to her room, leaving the door open just a crack so she can hear Mark if he gets a nightmare. Mark hasn’t had to call for her in the middle of the night in years, but she still does it out of habit. 

Mark changes into pajamas and brushes his teeth, dropping down onto his bed and staring up at this ceiling, covered in tiny glow-in-the-dark stars. There’s no pattern to them, clustered in bunches where his arms couldn’t reach past from his perch on the ladder with Donghyuck handing him a few at a time. It’s normal, relaxing, and Mark falls asleep imagining new constellations. 

❂

He wakes up to a pounding on his door.

“Mark! Mark, Markie, wake up! Come on, I’ve been waiting.” Donghyuck gives him another ten seconds before bursting in, sword on his back. Mark groans. “Your mom let me in. Up, up. Renjun texted me. He thinks he figured something out.” He stands next to Mark’s bed, hands on his hips, and then frowns when Mark does nothing more than grunt. “Come on, sleepyhead. Get up.”

“I’uon wanna,” Mark mumbles, shoving his face into his pillow, picturing Donghyuck rolling his eyes. “Lemme sleep.”

“No can do,” Donghyuck says, yanking the blankets off and jerking Mark’s pillow out from under his head. “We gotta go. The world needs saving, or something, probably. You can sleep later.”

“I want to sleep now.”

“If you don’t get up,” Donghyuck lowers his voice and Mark knows whatever he says isn’t going to be good, “I’m gonna go drink all your banana milk and then go on this quest by myself.”

“I think this counts as emotional manipulation,” Mark groans, sitting up blearily. “I’m up. What’d Renjun say?” He rubs his eyes and when he opens them, Donghyuck’s holding an already opened banana milk out to him. 

“Just said we needed to come by the store as soon as possible.”

“You didn’t think to ask anything else?” Mark fumbles on his bedside table for a moment before Donghyuck sighs and slides his glasses on for him. “Thanks.”

“I thought about it but decided that the sooner I got you, the sooner we could go and then you could ask the questions. So, up and at ‘em.”

“Right.” Mark yawns, stretching his arms above his head, and runs a hand through his hair. “Fine. Give me ten minutes.”

“You’ve got seven before I leave without you.”

“Fuck you,” Mark grumbles.

He’s ready in five, and Donghyuck shoves a fresh donut in his face before dragging him out the door. 

❂

“Let’s go see Renjun.”

“Why?” Jeno asks, looking up from his phone. Jaemin shrugs.

“My friend-senses are tingling.”

“Oh? Which one?”

“All of them,” Jaemin whines, draping himself over Jeno’s lap. “Except Jisung. No thumb cramps today, which is good, because he’s supposed to be with his aunt and uncle. Everyone else though.” Jeno grabs his hand, and Jaemin starts. “What are you doing? If you wanted to hold my hand, you could have just asked.”

“Nope,” Jeno says, amused and Jaemin ignores the tiny nudge of disappointment in his heart. “I wanted to see if your hand was cold. You said you feel like an ice cube when it’s Renjun.”

Jaemin shouldn’t be surprised that Jeno remembers what he said, but coos all the same. “You remembered! And yeah, like someone rubbed one all over the back of my hand. But I don‘t think you’re gonna feel anything.”

“I don’t,” Jeno muses, staring curiously at Jaemin, who fidgets like he’s under a microscope.

“Anyways!” He says, louder than necessary and with a forced laugh. “Let’s go to Dream.”

“That’s not the name of the store.” Jeno stands up and follows him to the door, pulling on his shoes and handing Jaemin his keys. “Chenle tells you that every time.”

“If it’s not the name of the store then they shouldn’t have put it on the front,” Jaemin retorts, grabbing his jacket and then Jeno’s because he always forgets it. This is familiar, routine, and Jaemin can almost ignore the almost-constant ache settled between his ribs. He wishes, not for the first time, that there was some sort of explanation for why he feels Jeno so acutely even when nothing’s happening. Whatever magic it is that gives him this extra sense must have really messed up in the proportions, Jaemin thinks, comparing it to the barely-there feeling of ice water on his skin. And, as he does every time, he pretends he doesn’t really know why, because ignorance is easier than the alternative. 

He decides, as he always does, to ignore the way that the ache is warm and soft, and just pulls Jeno out the door.

They get to the magic store at the same time as Mark and Donghyuck, and Donghyuck shouts something unintelligible at him and Jaemin yells nonsense back. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” Donghyuck says, still too loud, and Mark winces. Jaemin grins and loops an arm over his shoulder. 

“Fancy! Thought it might be fun to come drop by and see my favorite witches,” Jaemin answers, ignoring Mark trying to squirm away from him. “Last time I saw Renjun he yelled at me for disturbing his raindrops or something.”

“Ugh,” Donghyuck groans in fake sympathy. “Witches. So dramatic.” With that, he flings open the door and shouts into the dimly lit store, “Hey! The fun has officially arrived!”

“The fun can go home,” Renjun says, emerging from behind a beaded curtain. “Who’s this stranger? Na Jaemin, could it be you’ve finally deemed us worthy of a visit?”

“I was here last week?” Jaemin says, frowning at him. “You yelled at me about raindrops.”

“Oh,” Renjun says with a grin. “That’s not what I mean. You’ll figure it out later.”

It takes Jaemin an embarrassing amount of time to realize he’s being messed with. It’s a beat too long for him to recover, and Donghyuck is already laughing at him. Renjun snorts, and beckons them into the back.

“Come on. Chenle’s been working on something for you, Hyuck, and now that you’re here I guess you two can hear about the quest too,” he directs at Jaemin and Jeno. “I assume Hyuck’s already told you about the sword, and that Mark already had the meltdown I knew he was going to have?”

“Hey-” Mark protests weakly, and Renjun waves a hand, smile turning apologetic.

“Sorry about the joke yesterday. Chenle told me it had you kind of messed up. I should have known better. Sorry.”

“What joke?” Jeno says, and Jaemin barely holds back a question of his own. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Mark says quietly, and Jaemin can’t tell if it’s to Jeno or to Renjun. Donghyuck stays suspiciously quiet and Jaemin wonders when they’ll tell him whatever weird secret it is they’re keeping. It must not be that important, he figures, because he would know if it was. 

“Well, tell us about the quest then! What are you waiting for?”

❂

Mark feels apprehensive as Renjun leads them through the back of the store, into a workspace Mark doesn’t think he’s ever seen before, which is weird considering how small the building is and how much time Mark has spent here. 

Maybe it’s not that weird, he thinks, watching a small glass ball change colors in the flickering sunlight. Maybe he needs to increase his weirdness tolerance.

Chenle is waiting for them, looking like someone just told him it was Christmas. He pounces on Donghyuck and Mark has a weird sense of deja-vu as Chenle wrestles the sword away from him, orange hair catching the light and doing weird things to the shadows. Donghyuck whines about unfair treatment and Mark pats him on the head. The witches ignore him. 

“I had a long chat with the spirits last night,” Renjun says, at the same time that Chenle shoves a leather package at Donghyuck and shouts, “Look what I made you! Well, I didn’t make it, but I put some new charms on it! And made it look much nicer.” He disregards the glare that Renjun is targeting him with, and Mark wonders if it’s possible to a witch to curse another witch. Donghyuck is effectively distracted and quickly undoes the strings tied around the bundle, and the rapid-fire argument in Chinese between the two witches goes unnoticed by both Donghyuck and Jaemin as they unwrap it.

“Holy shit,” Donghyuck whispers, and Mark looks over from where he’s watching Renjun and Chenle in a silent standoff. “Holy shit, Chenle.”

“Do you like it?” Chenle abandons his fight with Renjun and peers around Donghyuck. “I didn’t really know what you would be looking for in a magical sword sheath but I did my best.”

“It’s gorgeous,” Donghyuck says, running his fingers over the carved leather and Mark finally looks at the sheath.

Donghyuck is right; it is gorgeous. The leather is dark mahogany, embossed with curling vines and flowers. It looks like there’s gold foil pressed into the patterns, glittering with the light, a stark contrast from the rich red of the rest. Stamped along the length are symbols, all curved lines and foreign characters. Donghyuck traces over them, entranced, and Chenle preens.

“What charms did you put on it?” Jaemin asks, and Chenle claps his hands in excitement.

“Well, first I burned some tokens for durability and preventing the sword from dulling on the wood— it’s made of aspen, by the way, a great conductor for magical energy— and then pressed one for safe keeping here, one for added protection here, one to help you find it if it’s lost here, and then the one on the back is for,” he pauses, hovering over the last mark, “well, I’m sure you’ll figure out what it’s for eventually. It should also adjust in size to the sword, since I wasn’t able to measure it or anything.”

Donghyuck nods and then excitedly reaches for the sword, clearly eager to try it, before Renjun swipes it away. Mark refrains from mentioning, again, that the sword doesn’t like that, because he still feels kind of crazy when he says it.

“Back to what I was saying,” he says, swiping silver hair away from his forehead, “I had a long chat with the spirits yesterday, and I think I know what your quest is. There were lots of murmurs to sort through, but they all seemed to be telling me the same thing.”

“And?” Jeno asks as Renjun’s eyes gloss over.

“The forest is sick,” he says, stare focused somewhere past Mark. “She is sick, and she is dying. You have to help her,” he continues, swinging his gaze to Donghyuck, looking without seeing him. “You have to save her. The one who is coming will destroy her, and there will be nothing left until it comes for you. Hurry, Sun, hurry, Moon, you must find the disease and you must kill it. You must kill it.” The witch shudders and Jeno swoops in to catch him as he goes boneless. When he opens his eyes again, his irises are back to their regular brown and he blinks.

Chenle sighs, and takes the sword from Renjun to hand it carefully to Donghyuck. “I tried to read the future, to get some sort of clue, but all I saw was black. Some sort of dark, inky blackness oozing through the trees, and fear.”

Mark has probably never been as spooked as he is now, he thinks, slowly digesting everything they’ve just said. All he comes up with is a headache.

“So that’s the quest? Saving the forest? Killing whatever evil thing it is that’s making it sick?” Jaemin, luckily, seemed to be following what they were talking about. Renjun nods.

“Yeah. I don’t know from what, and I don’t know when, but the spirits are desperate.”

“Right,” Donghyuck says, straightening up and sliding the sword into the sheath and slinging it over his shoulder. “Let’s save the forest.”

❂

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one of my friends told me i should make mark lose an eyebrow and i was like!!! no!!! i would never ever.  
> the plot (arrives) thickens!!!

**Author's Note:**

> comments and feedback appreciated so very much <3


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